


An Olive Branch

by PrincessAmericaChavez



Category: Marvel
Genre: Civil War II, FIx It, Fix It Fic, cwii, cwii spoilers, post cwii #1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:43:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7196093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessAmericaChavez/pseuds/PrincessAmericaChavez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark yelled at America Chavez in Civil War #1 and my heart can't take it. Also she apparently ends up in his team down the line, so I'm interested in exploring that before it actually goes down in canon (and are ever actually shown what happens behind the scenes). So in the mean time here's my theory: America and Tony would understand each other better than most and should be bffs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Olive Branch

Friday announces T’Challa’s arrival while Tony’s nursing his fourth (fifth?) cup of coffee of the day. He’s lost count of the hours of sleep he’s missed since it all started, he cannot take that luxury when so much is at stake. Negotiations with Carol and the Inhumans fell through, terribly, and things are shaping up quickly into a big conflict he very much would wish to avoid. But he can’t. Not when they’ve already lost so much and are still not willing to _listen._

As he lets T’Challa in, dread curls in the pit of his stomach. He was there, right there, with Carol when it happened. He allowed his team to do this. He is probably here to deliver well practiced political and scientific excuses for what they did. With a quiet mental order, Tony has the suit stand by his side in stealth mode, every other preventive security measure on and ready to fire in case this goes wrong. 

Tony notices two things. First, T’Challa arrives in full armor —not a good sign, but a thing he does. Tony knows him well enough to not be surprised, this days he wishes he could use his own armor every minute of the day. Second, he’s not alone. Next to the Wakandan king walks a girl pattered with stars and stripes from head to toe, Ms. America. 

When he’d first read of Chavez in their data base —however little he could actually find on her— she’d seemed like a big player. The way the Ultimates talked about her, you’d think they were almost scared of the reach of her powers. She’d seemed  like a titan, but the first time he actually met her he was surprised by how _small_ she looked, how _young._ Right now, standing next to the fully armored Black Panther, she looks like the child she probably is.

The girl averts his eyes as he studies her, fists discretely clenched by her sides. His stomach curls at the memory of how he’d towered over her days earlier, how he had yelled, finding an outlet for his anger in Carol’s teammate. The tension in the room is palpable as T’Challa squares his shoulders, standing next to Ms. America with a poise nearly protective. That’s new. 

Not one to dance around unpleasant subjects, T’Challa finally speaks, drawing Tony’s attention back in. He talks firmly, about the decisions made in the moment, about the consequences and responsibility they had to accept. Tony starts to get angry, until he goes on to talk about stoping Carol. Apparently, they’d tried to disuade her, avoid the conflict, but even amongst teammates they didn’t seem to see eye to eye. They are here to stop her, to help Tony. 

He tries to play down the relief that floods him, but the way his shoulders relax is probably telling. Maybe, the thinks, _maybe_ he doesn’t have to do this alone. 

The conversation lasts little. T’Challa is a man of actions rather than words. He promises resources and his help looking for a solution, hopefully a peaceful one. He takes his leave with the same kingly air with which he does everything. As they walk back towards the exit, Tony catches himself following them briskly. Something here still doesn’t fit, because as much as he understands T’Challa’s position —especially after all they’d suffered last time they tried to change the future, the incursions, the guilt, all that death—, he doesn’t know why he brought his little teammate along. 

“Ms. America,” he calls. Both of them stop, Tony directs his gaze at her, tries not to think about how small she looks again. “I’d like to have a word with you, if that’s okay,” he adds the last part carefully, like an olive branch. 

T’Challa and Chavez exchange one quick look. It’s hard to read much expression through the Black Panther mask —a fact that he knows T’Challa uses to his own advantage more often than not—, but somehow the two of them seem to reach a silent understanding. 

“I will wait outside,” he says calmly, before walking out. 

As soon as they are alone, America turnes to him, arms crossed tightly over her chest, stone cold eyes and jaw set. She’s bracing for another yelling. Tony’s stomach curls. He looks down as he looks for something in his pocket. 

“This- I wanted to talk about Lila- Lila Rhodes,” he murmurs, trying not to flinch at the name. “She was- She’s Rhodey’s nice. She’s a big fan.” He looks up at the girl, whose expression is rather confuse. “She talks about you all the time. When he found out you were working with Carol she- she asked Rhodey to get- He can’t now, but I’m sure he’d want to…” Tony reaches out with a small piece of neatly folded paper and a pen. 

America looks at the piece of paper with a frown on her face, as if she’d never seen one before. She glances back up at Tony, trying to read his face, as if she expected it to be a trap. 

“ _Please_ ,” he says quietly. It’s a silly little thing, but maybe if he can do this, if he can give Lila closure, help Rhodey keep his word, it feels like something to hold on to. 

America drops her shoulders at the same time she sighs, as a deflating balloon. She grabs the piece of paper, still eyeing him carefully. She uses the wall next to her for support, signing neatly her name with a star in place for the initial A. Still without  a word, she hands the piece of paper back. 

“I-” Tony struggles for words as he puts the paper away into his pocket. “I wanted to say… about the other day… I shouldn’t have-”

“ _Don’t.”_ Her voice catches him off guard. She sounds older than he remembers, firm. She straightens up to look him in the eye and he sees an old soul he wasn’t quite expecting. He’s been surrounded by kids like her the past month, the other Avengers, he often wonders at how young they are, at how naive they can be, untainted by years of fighting and suffering. America’s eyes should be like that too, they are not. Her face still shows traces of the fight, blue bruises only starting to disappear from her skin. “Don’t apologize.”

“I shouldn’t have lashed out like that against you,” he insists.

“You were angry, and you were _right_ ,” she says firmly. “We shouldn’t have been there. This should have never happened.”

“You were only following your team,” Tony concedes, because placing the blame on everyone who had been present there feels wrong. No, he knows who made this call. Carol. 

“I should have stopped them,” America mutters, eyes hard and firm. He’s almost startled by the certainty in her voice that stopping them would have been an option at al. “I _told_ them,” she goes on, “I warned them against messing around with time. I knew it was wrong.”

_“_ And still, you went there with them,” he says, and he’s not _blaming_ her, he’s trying to understand. 

“After you’ve seen a few things, the line gets blurrier,” she says, and her eyes cast a quiet accusation on him. He thinks back on the incursions. She couldn’t _know. “_ But there’s still a line, and we are all standing on the edge. We _have_ to stop them before they screw everything up.”

Tony takes a moment to register her resolution. So far, he thought she was here following T’Challa along, maybe out of guilt, but the way she speaks suggests _more._  It suggests  _motivations_ than she’s not entirely letting on. She talks as if this was her direct responsibility, shouldering her teammates decisions on her young shoulders as if it was natural. She’s too young for this. 

“For the record, I _am_ sorry for coming after you like that,” is all he can think to offer, sending her an honest look and an apologetic smile. 

“Forget it, but do it again, and I’ll kick your head off,” she says, but a smirk dangles on the corner of her lips. 

“We must leave,” T’Challa announces his entrance. “Our absence will soon be felt in the Triskalleon.” 

America nods, stepping away from him and moving further down the hallway towards her teammate. Her eyes shine, a bright blue star appears out of nowhere. With one kick, reality shatters like glass in front of her. _No big deal._ He’d read about her abilities on T’Challa’s files, but seeing them first person was completely different. 

Tony stares frozen as they both disappear through the portal without looking back. The star closes, leaves no trace behind. 

“Friday,” he clears his throat, “get me all the information we have on the Ultimates.” Not that he hadn’t gone through it before, but he suddenly feels the need to double check what he thought he knew. 

The piece of paper burns in his pocket. He has to call Lila.

**Author's Note:**

> The saddest part about this is that Lila being a big America Chavez fan and talking about her with Tony is 100% canon in the Iron Patriot comic, so excuse me while I go sob in my corner.


End file.
